Once upon a
by Archerea
Summary: A story about some of the Disney ladies living in a big city during the 21th century, with all the problems and happy moments that are included. Please let me know what you think, so I will know if I should continue or not. HIATUS
1. Game is on

**This life of ours****  
><strong>  
>Chapter one<p>

Introducing Belle, Alice and Cindy

"Everything is falling apart. Make it stop, make it stop! Go away, you don't belong here, go home!" the young girl screamed, tears streaking rapidly down her deadly pale cheeks. Her eyes were widened in absolute terror, blue and slightly clouded; staring unseeingly into nothing. She fell to her knees on the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth in frantic movements, all the while chewing on the knuckles of her hands. Where her teeth tore through fragile skin, drops of blood started slid across it, painting the roots of nails and cracks of fingers a deep, disturbing red. She shivered as if she was trapped in a snowstorm, and not safely inside a warmed living room with merry flames burning in the fireplace.

Belle had no idea what had happened. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had gone to pour herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, leaving the young blonde to sort through the newly arrived boxes of books, and when she'd come back, said blonde had turned totally catatonic, yelling, striking at empty air and cursing at some horrifying enemy visible to no one but herself. That was before she apparently had decided to take defensive over offensive, and then the rocking had started.

"Alice? Alice!" Belle resented the edge of panic her voice had taken, but she hadn't got the slightest clue on how to deal with this sort of situation, and all her knowledge of first-aid and calming down someone with hysterics had left her mind, leaving her feeling help – and powerless. She had read a bunch about stuff like this, but what did it help when she couldn't remember a single word when actually needed? So she did the only thing that felt right by pulling Alice's injured hands from her mouth and forcing them to be still; she tried not to look at the girl's teeth, which were covered in blood she had smeared onto them. Alice tried to wiggle her way out of Belle's grasp, but the older woman kept her grip firm, locking Alice in a solid hold against her so that they were back to chest. "Easy, girl, easy.." Belle muttered soothingly into the other's ear, but that just sent Alice into a frenzy; she kicked violently and tried to shake Belle's arms off of her, "Let go of me! They're here, I need to go! The game is about to start!" The tears had stilled and the only sign they had ever been there was slightly glistening trails, one on each cheek.  
>Belle struggled to stand her ground and not let go of her friend, but with a last effort Alice broke free and plunged through the air, towards the open fireplace. Belle yelled something unintelligible and threw herself at her, but only caught hold of one ragged, blue sneaker, which came off without having done anything to stop Alice's crazy pursuit. "No!"<p>

Thankfully, just before reaching the deadly inferno, Alice stopped. She stood completely still, breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists and blonde hair standing on end. Then she slowly, tentatively, extended her hand towards the flickering flames. Belle stared, somehow unable to move from shock, as Alice, whose eyes were glazed eerily, started humming a soft tune with only so few sentences Belle was able to understand: "Whiskers on kittens.. Hearts on a string.."  
>"Alice.."<br>"Strings break so easy.. Losing it like the king.."  
>"The king? What king?" Belle raised herself from the floor, and, very slowly and carefully, she made her way towards the girl. If only she could keep her talking.. She had read that delusional people could end up hurting themselves, though not on purpose. She also realizes that this probably was an unfair prejudice, since she didn't have any first-hand knowledge about mental illnesses, but only knew a little of this and a little of that from what she had read in one of her medical books. But no matter what she thought it would be a good idea to distract the girl before she burned herself. <em>Easy, Belle. Cindy said she would be here to help with the books. It's only a matter of time<em>_  
><em>Alice, on the other hand, kept mumbling, "The king of hearts". A frown appeared on her forehead, making her look like she questioned Belle's sanity for asking such a foolish question, "She broke his string."  
>"Who?" Belle had almost reached a point where she could situate herself between the fireplace and Alice.<br>"The queen, of course." she started singing again, "Broken hearts.. Broken smiles.. Chessmate, dearest king.."  
>And then, after uttering these cryptic words, Alice fell to the floor, unconscious.<p>

Cindy arrived a few moments later, carrying a couple of shopping bags, which she promptly dropped to the floor when she saw Alice's still form. Belle had dragged the girl onto the couch, trying to make her comfortable by popping her up against some pillows and covering her with a blanket. In the adult's opinion she looked awfully pale, but at least her long, dark eyelashes were fluttering softly against the faintly purple lids, indicating that she probably had tired herself out during her fit and had fallen asleep. "What happened?" Cindy asked, walking to improvised bed. Belle breathed out a sigh in relief. Taking care of people in need was more Cindy's thing, really. Belle herself had read a lot of stuff on the subject, but that only covered the basics, and it was not like she had tried anything like this before. The other woman had both worked with an aid organization, at a mental hospital and as a school teacher somewhere in some Asian country. She had had her hands in a little of this and a little of that concerning projects, and if anyone could help Alice, it ought to be her. Cindy kneeled down besides the girl. "Aurora was suspecting that she didn't taking her medication" she said, rubbing the sleeping Alice's hand soothingly while studying the bite marks, "I guess I didn't want to believe her"  
>Her gaze turned soft. "Oh Alice.." then her focus shifted direction and set itself upon Belle, "Tell me what happened?"<br>Belle rubbed her temples in an attempt to calm herself, but it did not really work. "I'm not quite sure, actually. One minute she was sorting through the books and singing some tune from a commercial, while I went to pour us a cup of tea, and the next she was totally out of it, screaming and talking to someone in her mind, breaking stuff and hurting herself.. I tried to calm her, but she fought back, and then she just.. Stopped. She stood completely still." Belle felt an involuntary shiver run op her arms. "Bells?"  
>"She started singing. Something about a king of hearts, and a queen who was hurting him, as far as I was able to understand. She talked about a game to, possibly chess, and said she had to go. I think Aurora might be right about her quitting her medication."<br>Stupid, headstrong Alice, who had kept insisting that nothing was wrong, and hadn't let on that she had been carrying a burden far too heavy for her frail shoulders..  
>Cindy sighed, a soft burst of air coming from between her parted lips. She brushed a few strands of corn blonde hair behind her ear and stood up, "We should call 112." She looked cool and in control, like she dealt with this kind of thing every day. To the eye of a bystander Cinderella Rosenberg looked more like a domestic housewife than a leader type; all soft curves, rosy skin and warm, trustworthy eyes, but she was always collected and good at taking charge when people counted on her.<br>"You do that" Belle agreed, "Then I'll call Adam. He got off of work fifteen minutes ago and said he would stop by the confectioner's, but I'll make him come straight home". She found her cellphone at the coffee table and found her husband's number.  
>"Belle?"<br>"Yes?" She looked up at Cindy, who was wearing a guilty expression.  
>"I'm sorry I didn't get here faster. I had to make sure Jaq and Gus had something to eat, and they had been making a mess, so I had to clean.. You know how it is..."<br>Belle shook her head disarmingly. The last thing she wanted was to make her friend feel bad about her habit of keeping things clean. Very clean. Actually, it was kind of an obsession, caused by a trauma in Cindy's childhood, but she was working on not letting it be a ruling force in her life. Belle's hand clenched by the thought of what had awoken this OCD in her. Or more accurate, whom. But she didn't want to think about evil stepmothers right now, not when Cindy was watching her in a nervous, calculating way. "It doesn't matter, Cind, you couldn't have known this would happen" Belle smiled, which made the other relax visibly. Cindy went to sit by Alice's side to call for an ambulance, while Belle called Adam. She would have to get a hold on Mulan as well, because after all her and Alice were sharing a room in their hall of residence, and if Belle didn't call her she would be totally beside herself with worry in a couple of hours. And there was no need to create more problems than needed. Besides, there was one more person she had to call, which Alice would not be happy about. But the unconscious girl didn't really have a saying in the matter, and it was the best for her.. Or so Belle convinced herself. All her loud thoughts were stilled as soon as a male voice reached her through the phone. She had to cough a few times to get her voice to function, but then she gathered all her courage. "Mr. Liddle? Hello, you're speaking with Belle Sanders. I'm a friend of your Alice. You might want to come, Sir. Right, I'll give you the address.."

End of chapter one

-

Just for the information's sake, and if anyone are in doubt:  
>Cinderella Rosenberg (Cindy), Jaq and Gus (<strong>Cinderella<strong>)  
>Alice Liddle (<strong>Alice in Wonderland<strong>)  
>Belle and Adam Sanders (<strong>Beauty and the Beast<strong>)

The variants of the characters I have borrowed belong to Disney


	2. A little bit crazy

**Chapter 2**

Introducing Robert Liddell, Adam, Belle, Cinderella and Alice

Doctor Liddell came to pick up Alice half an hour later. He'd had to leave work before his hours were up, which hadn't done anything to make him more empathetic towards his youngest daughter's situation. He was a big person, filling up almost the entire doorway to Belle and Adam's house, with eyes as blue as Alice's and the same blonde hair, except that his had streaks of grey in it. But the hair and the eyes were just about the only things they had in common. Alice's facial features were softer and rounder than her father's clear-cut ones, and she didn't share his slight strain at the corner of the mouth. It made him look like he was always fighting very hard not to sneer at people.  
>"Hello Sir" Belle greeted him, trying to sound kind and obliging, though every nerve in her body screamed for her to close the door firmly shut between them. She didn't want him in her home, this man she resented so. It was not fair, one would say, she hardly knew him. But she had opened this very same door to a devastated run-away Alice more than once. That was before the girl finished high school and moved out of her childhood home for good. Robert Liddell wasn't a nice man, and Belle was not sure it had been the best of ideas to call him. But she had felt like it was her duty to alarm Alice's parents about their daughter's condition. Of course she wasn't really sure herself of what this condition involved.<br>"Belle Sanders?" he asked in a brusque voice, with made her even less willing to hand over Alice to him. "_Oi_" Belle said, suddenly very aware of her accent. "Yes, I mean" She added, trying very hard to sound prober and English, but finding herself unable to tune out the slightly melodious edge in her language. Not that she really minded it.  
>"You are French" Mr. Liddell said, more a statement than a question, "What are you doing in England?"<br>The way he asked the question, like he was surprised that a foreign girl could manage moving overseas, made Belle feel nothing short of uncomfortable.  
>"I live here" she said sharply and then motioned towards the living room, "Alice is in here. She has been asking for you"<br>That was a downright lie, but she wanted to direct the attention away from herself. Alice would, as far as Belle understood, never ask for her father. When she woke up and saw that her friends had called for him, she wouldn't be very happy. Most likely the opposite.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Alice asked, her eyes turning a darker shade of blue with anger. Her voice was still a little shaky, but the nasty tone in it was audible. She was conscious now, and was wrapped in the blankets like a caterpillar in its pupa. She looked so pale and fragile, Belle just wanted to take the young woman in between her arms and shield her from her own father. If Mr. Liddell was affected by Alice's hostile attitude he did not let it on. He just went closer to the sofa, but stopped a couple of meters away from it, like he on purpose was trying to put as big a distance between them as possible without seeming too obvious. He had a look of badly hidden disgust on his face. Like his own child carried a contagious disease he was afraid of catching. Alice face fell even further when she saw this, but she didn't say a word. The silence quickly grew awkward, since both of the Liddells refused to break it, and Belle and Cindy didn't know how to. Then Cindy pulled herself together and interrupted Alice and her father's staring contest by saying "Sir, would you mind joining me in the kitchen?"  
>The man nodded and left for the other room without waiting for Cindy to lead the way. Alice sent her a thankful smile, and, as soon as the two were out of the room, glared at Belle accusingly. "Why is he here?"<br>"Al, we are worried about you."  
>"I had it completely under control!" The girl objected, which just made Belle raise a questioning eyebrow. "Yeah, sure you had. While screaming at imaginary people and almost setting yourself on fire. Who is the queen of hearts, anyway?"<br>"Queen of what?"  
>"Exactly"<br>Belle sighed. "Alice, this won't do. You know that."  
>She reached out, and Alice let her friend take her hand. But she had that stubborn look in her eyes, the one that told Belle that they were two to decide what would and what wouldn't do. "Please make him go away. I don't want him here." the girl tried once again, but now changing approach. She almost pleaded in hope of appealing to Belle's conscience. Her efforts were futile though.<br>"Alice, listen" Belle said, looking at the girl to make sure that she knew that the situation was actually serious, "You want to proceed attending the university, _pas vrai_?"  
>"Don't go all French on me. You know I suck at it"<br>"Do you want to continue?"  
>Alice sighed, bowing her head in defeat. "Yes."<br>"You are certainly not making this easier for yourself. You think that you can stay there if you go against your doctor's order and ignore advice like that?" Belle said while rubbing her temples.  
>Alice shook her head and very humbly asked, "What is Cindy going to tell him?"<br>Belle didn't know, actually. In the haste of calling Dr. Liddell and making sure his daughter was comfortable they hadn't had the time to agree on what to say, but she counted on Cinderella to be discrete and speak Alice's case. There was awfully quiet in the kitchen though. She hoped Cindy was alright. The blonde woman was good at handling these sorts of things, but still, Alice's father could be a handful. Belle had no idea what was going on in there, but still she felt like she had to say _something_ to give the girl something to hang on to. She picked up a random book from the pile besides the couch and started to stroke the cover. There wasn't really any point to it, but feeling the smooth surface beneath her fingers tended to have a soothing effect on her. So she caressed the book like her life depended on it, and said "She is probably going to give him the specifics about your condition, and then get him to take you to a psychologist, whom you will have some conversations with."  
>"I don't need conversations, I swear!" Now the girl looked very close to desperate; her eyes were widened, and she was clutching the blanket like was it an anchor.<br>"Then why did you stop taking your pills?" Belle could feel her temper flaring dangerously. What did it take to make Alice see reason?  
>"I.. I just.. I wanted to prove that I could manage without them. The sunshine drugs, I mean" She said the last sentence with a sarcastic tone coloring her British accent.<br>"Antidepressants" Belle corrected her automatically, "For your anxiety attacks."  
>"All fine words to camouflage the real meaning. Did you see how Father<em> looked<em> at me? He acts like I'm mentally ill, Bells". She managed to avoid looking at the other, "And the worst part is, I think I might be"  
>"Be what?" Belle frowned, giving the girl's hand a soft squeeze. She looked so frail, and Belle could feel the anger seeping out of her system.<br>"Crazy" was the quiet answer. And for once Belle didn't have a reply. Thankfully she didn't need one, for the next second the door burst open and Adam stumbled into the hall. Through the open doorway they saw him struggling with his coat and managing to get stuck in the left sleeve twice before getting the piece of clothing off. He hastily placed it on the hanger for outdoor clothing and ran to the couch. "I am sorry it took so long" he said, "The traffic was awful". He was breathing heavily from the exercise of riding his bike from work to home in such short time and his brown hair was a mess. Belle just nodded and asked a counter-question: "I thought you said that you perhaps would have to work overtime."  
>"I told them it was a family emergency" he said, only now looking at Alice. He sent her a reassuring smile, and the girl calmed visibly down. She liked Adam, and since she had visited the Sanders household so many times when having run away from home, the two of them had formed a close bond. Adam, though with his age of 24 only was four years older than Alice, served as a sort of father-figure to her. Belle sometimes got a little jealous of their relationship, which was silly since Adam and she were happily married. He was just very protective of the girl.<br>"You alright?" he asked Alice, kneeling besides the couch.  
>She nodded, but didn't look at him. Belle realized that it was shame coloring those pale cheeks. "I.." Alice said, "I thought I could control it"<br>She looked from him to his wife and back again, before once again avoiding their gazes. "You didn't get my question" he said, incredibly gently, "How are you feeling?"  
>"It's better now" she muttered, "But it hurt so bad. I thought I should die. My heart was pounding hard and it felt like something heavy was pressing against my chest so I couldn't breathe. I became nauseous, even though I stood completely still, and then everything just got tuned out."<br>"Alice" Adam said, his voice very stern, "I want you to look at me, and I want you to promise me that you will tell me the truth when I ask you a question"  
>The girl seemed so shocked by this new intensity that all she could do was make a small sound of agreement. She sat up straighter in her bed, preparing for what he would inquire of her.<br>"You have returned to the drugs and stopped taking the meds, haven't you?"  
>"I..I.."<br>"You said you wouldn't lie to me, Liddell" Adam pointed out, which made her stammering stop.  
>"They make it better, the drugs." she said, confirming his suspicion, "I feel safer when I have them".<br>Adam rubbed his temples. "You know it isn't a durable solution, _Chérie_. You are just digging a deeper hole for yourself when you will have to deal with drug abuse. Please tell me you didn't come here with with'drawal symptoms"  
>"I didn't!" she protested, "I'm totally good"<br>As she said that last sentence Mister Liddell pushed open the door forcefully. He went straight to Alice, and before she got a chance to raise her arms in protection he slapped her across the left cheek so hard that the hit echoed in the room. Alice just sat there, eyes wide with fright and tears streaming down her face. She reached up a shaking hand to touch the new mark on her face, which was shaped as five fingers and glowing an angry red. But even though her father was standing above her, rage ebbing from him like a tidal wave and his nostrils expanding like a rhino's, she didn't say a thing. She was simply too stunned to speak. "Doctor Liddell!" Belle exclaimed, upset about the elder's action. Cinderella joined them just as Adam positioned himself between Robert and his daughter, protecting her with his body. "That is the not the right way to handle this, Sir" Adam spat out, every word laced with venom.  
>"Move" The doctor commanded.<br>"No" Adam said steadily, as opposed to the other man's infuriated demeanor and didn't move an inch.  
>"Why did you call for me?" Mr. Liddell asked. His face had turned very red.<br>"My wife and her friend contacted you because they thought you had to know of your daughter's condition and that you would help find a way in which to precede her further treatment. They _didn't_ contact you to become witnesses to such abuse."  
>Cindy spoke quietly, but her voice reached clear through the tense air. Her light blue eyes were cold like ice. "Adam is right, we certainly did not expect Alice's father to behave in such an.." she wrinkled her nose in strong dislike while searching for the right phrase, "Immature way"<br>Liddell decided to ignore this and instead turned his attention to the blonde girl hiding behind Belle's husband. "Alice, come here."  
>At first Belle thought that Alice wouldn't react, but then the girl slowly stood and on shaky legs went to her father's side.<br>"Alice, are you sure?" Belle asked her.  
>"He pays for my education, Bells." as if that was enough explanation, Alice let herself be dragged out of the living room by that hideous man that unfortunately was her father. She send them a pityful look over her shoulder, before the door to the hall closed behind Mr. Liddell and her. Belle, Adam and Cinderella were left alone in the room, completely helpless in the face of what had just happened. When they heard Alice and Robert starting to yell at each other before having even left the house Adam made a move to follow them, but the two women forced him back onto the couch.<br>"You will just make matters worse, _Mon bienaimé_," Belle told him softly. The fire in Adam's eyes died as he slumped further into the red cushions. He hid his head in his hand and uttered a defeated sigh. Cinderella sat on to his left and his wife on his right, and then Belle started rubbing his shoulders soothingly. He relaxed visibly beneath her hands, and let his shoulders drop from their tense position. "What should we do?" he asked.  
>"I don't think we should do anything" Cindy said hesitantly. When the other two stared at her in surprise she continued: "As you said, Belle, nothing good will come of it. It's none of our business."<br>"But – "  
>"No. We will just have to be supportive of Alice and be there if she needs us"<br>"Cinderella, you saw how he treated her!" Belle objected, "How can we _not_ help?"  
>Cindy grabbed her friend's hand firmly. "Do you really think her father would get less angry if we started meddling?"<br>Belle's head dropped between her fingers, just like Adam's had a moment before, and she whispered "_Non_.. I suppose I don't"

A full hour passed before Cinderella said goodbye and left. The three of them had had a couple crêpes to eat, which they had been munching on in silence. Each of them had been deep in their own thoughts, pondering on this new, unusual situation. Belle felt like she could have been eating socks and she couldn't have cared less. Once Cindy's phone had called and when she had picked it up she put a very worried Mulan on the speaker. They talked back and forth for a while, Mulan stressing and silently blaming them for letting Mr. Liddell take Alice with him and Adam, Belle and Cindy trying to convince her that it was the best thing to do, though none of them really believed in that themselves. After hanging up Cindy said something about having to get back to the mice and birds, and the other two bid her farewell in the doorway.  
>As soon as they heard the engine of Cindy's car roar to life, Adam closed the door. Back in the living room the two of them sat on the floor and started quietly sorting the books into separate piles. They did so for a short while, until Belle couldn't handle the silence any longer. She placed a book about famous painters in the non-fiction biography pile and turned towards her other half. "<em>Sont vous bien<em>?"  
>"I'm fine, Love" he said, but wasn't very convincing since he put a facts book about the American civil war into the romance fiction pile. "<em>Brute,<em> Beast.." she said, a faintly teasing note to her voice, "You are certainly not"  
>He sighed at this nickname she had proclaimed was his. "You are never going to let that one go, are you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in mock annoyance, but smiling none the less. His young wife shook her head so the chestnut brown curls danced around her shoulders. He reached out and tugged fondly at one of them.<br>"I don't see a reason to. Maybe it will teach you to get trimmed every once in a while". Her eyes were gleaming teasingly. "But I like my hair" he said, touching his own brown tresses in a protective gesture, like he was afraid she would attack him with scissors.  
>"I do, too" she said, tilting her head softly to one side, "But there was a reason for the name Beast, you know. You looked positively <em>sauvage<em>"  
>This made him chuckle, and she soon joined in with that fresh, clear laugh of hers. Adam liked her laugh. It made him think of all sorts of good thing, like the beautiful lilies in their garden, warm summer nights spend star gazing and cozy evenings in front of the fireplace with a winter storm raging outside. The memories overwhelmed him for a moment. They had been married for two years now, which in itself wasn't that long, but he couldn't imagine a life without Belle. How he had made it so long time without her remained a mystery to him.<br>"_Sotte fille_" he said jokingly and slapped her shoulder, "Now stop your teasing. You want me to help you with this or not?"  
>Belle's laughter turned into a giggle, and she answered "Yes, want help. Sorry"<br>They proceeded with their sorting, and the rest of the day was largely uneventful seen in the light of Alice's break down.

End of chapter 2.

-  
>And once again some explanations.<p>

Cinderella Rosenberg (**Cinderella**)  
>Alice and Robert Liddell (<strong>Alice in Wonderland<strong>)  
>Fa Mulan (<strong>Mulan<strong>)  
>Belle and Adam Sanders (<strong>Beauty and the beast<strong>)

These variants of the characters belong to Disney.


	3. Mighy screwed up

**Chapter 3****  
><strong>**  
><strong>Introducing and containing Jasmine, Aladdin, Giselle, Robert, Morgan, Ariel, Eric, Kidakagash, Rapunzel and Tiana.

Here's third chapter. I hope you readers will enjoy it. I would love to get reviews and suggestions as to which characters I should include later on in the next chapters. So if you have a favorite that has not been mentioned yet, just get in touch (:_  
><em>_  
><em>_Hey Dad, it's Jasmine.. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch late__ly, but I have had an awful lot to do. You see, I've met this guy. He's really nice, lots better than the last one, I swear. He's kind and attentive and - What he does? Oh, he used to pick-pocket down at Trafalgar Square along with his monkey. Oh no, don't__ worry, he let go of that a long while ago (I think), and now he sells carpets. The monkey? No, of course it's legal!... Whether Aladdin and I have a serious relationship? Well.. No, of course we aren't going to move in together, not before you've met him__.. Eh.__  
><em>  
>Jasmine groaned pitifully and hid her face in her folded arms. In her left hand rested a phone, which bottoms her fingers were hovering indecisively above, and which she for the last hour unsuccessfully had tried to take contact to her father with. It wasn't that he hadn't picked up; more that she couldn't get herself to actually dial his number. What would she tell him, really? The truth? That she had found an intoxicated young man in the midst of pickpocketing her when out shopping and that she, after accidentally having knocked him out with an upper-cut, had brought him home to sleep it off on her couch? Oh yes, that would do wonderfully, and make Aladdin seem like quite the catch. How could she explain to her father, who had only ever given her all that money could buy and had made sure she attended the best schools so that she could obtain her dream of becoming a police woman, that she had fallen in love and was moving in with a former overgrown street urchin? She couldn't. She would just have to keep her boyfriend a secret from her father. Hide him in the closet whenever Daddy came for tea. Yes, that would work. She let out another drawn-out sigh, before putting away the phone altogether and instead starting to sort through the items in her purse in pursue of her car keys. She had to get out of the apartment, it felt cramped up and strangling, she needed fresh air, to breathe – "Jas, I'm home!"<p>

She put the keys back. So much for that outing. She shouldn't go out anyway; she had a lot of work to finish up on. "In here, Honey." She said, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. She loved Aladdin, and could not bear to see him sad or worried about anything. When that happened he looked like a lost puppy and she felt like she had just kicked said puppy, which made her feel even worse than she already did. So therefore she did not want to let on that anything was wrong. "Did you get the vet to take a look at him?" She asked instead, and turned to face him as he walked into the kitchen. He nodded in confirmation and sent her a loop-sided smile, which couldn't quite hide the embarrassment he was feeling from Jasmine. He put down his bag, opened it and carefully lifted his sleeping pet from inside of it. Abu was curled into a fetal-like ball and was purring like a cat in drowsy contentment. Jasmine scratched him gently behind an ear, careful not to wake the monkey. She tossed a glance at Aladdin, who was fondling a lock of his own dark hair in a nervous movement. "Anything the matter?"  
>Actually she very well knew what the matter was, but she needed to hear him say it.<br>"I'm sorry"  
>"For what?" She turned her attention back to the animal, which was now leaning into the touch with something looking like a smile on its tiny lips.<br>"For letting him eat all the fruit"  
>"Oh, no, don't be sorry about that." She felt a hard and icy edge creeping into her voice, "It's not your fault that your pet doesn't have any self-restraint left from his days as a thief"<p>

Aladdin stiffened and his mouth tightened into a pale line, but he didn't say anything to defend Abu. Jasmine softened on the inside and hesitantly caressed his arm across the table. Sweet, patient, good-natured Aladdin. Aladdin who would never hurt anyone on purpose, but who still ended up causing trouble simply by having a past he could not help. "Look, I'm sorry." She said, "I've had a rough day, 's all"  
>He saw trough her as if she were carved in glass and squeezed her hand as he asked in a hopeful voice: "You spoke to your father?"<br>"I.." so easy to lie. That would make him happy. "I couldn't" She admitted, and felt deep regret as she saw his cheek redden and his eyes darting towards the door. When faced with something he couldn't handle, Aladdin's instincts told him to flee, like a frightened animal. She knew that he was hurting everyday by knowing that she could not bring herself to tell her father about their relationship. He never said what he felt, just accepted her decision, that it was just the way things had to be. But Jasmine could see that he was breaking a little bit every time she told the truth instead of just lying. And she felt like the worse sort of scum for causing this breaking. "Look" she whispered, brushing his cheek with a thumb to make him look at her, "You know I love you, right?"  
>There was no hesitation; "Yes."<br>"I just need a little more time."  
>"I know."<p>

The sadness in his voice was clutching at her heart, but he forced a smile as he twisted one of her black strands of hair between his fingers. He knew that he couldn't fool her. He never could, Aladdin was as easy to read as an open book. "Is there anything I can do to make this better for you?" she asked, enjoying the touch of his smooth fingers running across her cheekbones, but still maintaining eye contact.  
>"I.." he started hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck once more in thought. Then his eyes, which had moments before been dull and sad, lit up and sparkled like obsidian. "Let me take you to the teashop down at Harrods!" His mouth spread into a wide smile, "It will be my treat, I promise"<br>Jasmine tossed at glance at the stack of unfinished paperwork resting tauntingly on the tabletop. "I can't" she said and hated to watch his happy expression fall a little, "I have to finish up these cases and – "  
>She stopped when she saw his eyes. He hadn't said anything, but there was a silent plead in them, begging of her to let him make things better, for him to help her enjoy the sunshine of a lovely day without letting worries bother her.<p>

He had said that he would pay, but Jasmine was sure that she would end up doing it anyway. It was always like that, but she never mentioned it to him. She knew that he was sick and tired of always being unable to afford anything except paying the rent and getting the most necessary for Abu and himself. He wanted to take her nice place and buy expensive stuff for her. _She_ just wanted him to be her Aladdin. Always bright and cheerful and so very kind. There hadn't been much room for those sorts of feelings lately, and suddenly, all thoughts of files were pushed aside.

"Okay, Al. I'll race you for the stairs!"  
>It was too nice a day to be wasted on work, anyway.<p>

-

Busy morning. Always very busy. They woke up at 06:40 sharp and then a very tight schedule was expected to be followed. 10 minutes to shower and become pretty. It wasn't much, not at all like the 45 minutes to an hour Giselle was used to back home in Canada. But then again, she had had neither a job nor anything even remotely looking like responsibilities, since a rich uncle of hers had died and left her an awful lot of money. She had tried to explain that to Robert when he insisted that she couldn't use such a long time on fixing her hair and taking showers – not only for being clean, but for relaxation as well.  
><em>"But I've got money! Lots! I can just call my – "<em>_  
><em>_"Giselle, you don't get it. What you need is a lesson on living in the _real _world, without a wealthy long-passed benefactor"__  
><em>So job and early rising it was. Twenty minutes for eating breakfast, for Robert to read the newspaper, for them both to get ready for work and Morgan for school. Then he would catch a cab at 7:30, and Giselle and Morgan would leave fifteen minutes later. It had become a nice morning routine.

It wasn't that she didn't like her work, or anything. She loved it. Making clothes, especially dresses, had always been her passion, and she lived for the almost animated happiness in the girls' eyes when she presented before them the dresses of their dreams. She made good money at doing one of the things she enjoyed the most, and she had even expanded her field so that she was now also making clothes for grown-up women. Very carefully she had also begun to dabble in the art of wedding dresses and accessories to go along with them. It was a delightful task and the more elaborate and decorated the dresses were, the better. The opening of Andalasia had been like a dream come true.  
>However, she so missed sleeping in, and always looked forward to the weekends where she could just lie in bed with Robert until midday, cuddling like love-stuck teenagers and watching foolish sitcoms on his television.<p>

But, as mentioned before, today was not one of those days.  
>"Giselle!" a clearly stressed Robert yelled from behind the bathroom door, "You almost done in there?"<br>She sighed and twisted her hair into a tight bundle to press the water out of it, then answered, voice very calm: "Almost. Just a moment, Love"  
>"You said a moment ago that you only needed a moment!"<br>"Then I need another one"  
>"I'll be late!"<br>Giselle burst open the door, almost knocking her husband off of his feet, and walked out into the hallway in a pink dressing gown. She gave him a once-over, noticing his slightly crumbled suit and halfway knotted tie.  
>"Want me to help you with that?"<br>"No thank you, I think I can handle a clothing-crisis by myself" he snapped at her, then quickly back-paddled at this statement, "I mean –"  
>He fumbled even harder with the piece of cloth around his neck, but his motions were nervous, his fingers shaking, and Giselle took pity on him. She touched his shoulder gently before removing his hands and starting to tie the fabric. Robert moved restlessly on the spot, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, from toes to heel, and she had to grip his arms and force him to stand still. "Stop it, you're fidgeting."<br>He obeyed her, but only for long enough for her to straighten out his shirt, then he raced into the bathroom and embarked on the task of forcing a comb through his unruly dark hair. She followed him and leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe with crossed arms. "Honey, relax. You will do fine at this meeting, I know you will"  
>"Yes, but it's just such a big deal, I can't screw this up"<br>"You are a great attorney, Robert, I have no idea why this one gets you so riled up. So it's an important thing, but you will manage. You always do". At the last three words her voice turned soft and kind, and once having noticed this, the deep frown in Robert's forehead smoothed out and he looked more at ease. He pushed the last few strands of hair into his neat hairdo and then turned to smile at her. "I do, don't I?" he asked, and she nodded before kissing his cheek affectionately. "You do. Now I'll go wake up Morgan while you whip up some breakfast, okay?"  
>"I'll make pancakes"<br>Robert wasn't a man for expressing feelings through words, but he had his own way of showing them through small well-meant gestures.  
>"That sounds great!"<p>

Singing the tune of an evergreen ("That's how you know" had been on every radio's top list these last few weeks) she danced into Morgan's pink-themed bedroom and pulled aside the curtains with a flourish worthy of a fairy. "Rise and shine, Princess!" she sang and pushed open the window, letting the relatively fresh city air in and the last traces of sleep out. Morgan moved a little about and muttered something unintelligible, but did not show any sign of willingness to leave the cozy covers of her bed. But by the urging of Giselle ("Pancakes!") she miraculously found the required strength to get up. Getting dressed, eating breakfast, Giselle kissing Robert goodbye while whispering calming endearments into his ear, and then the girls were out the door.

"Mrs. Philip?"  
>Giselle had a hard time answering, her mouth being kept at bay by a handful of needles dangerously caught between her pursed lips. "Yhesh?" she inquired through clenched teeth, entirely focused on the task at hand, namely adjusting a bow at the front of a dress. Blue and silky to the touch it was to be one of the pieces of her treasured Diamond-collection. "Was to be" seeming to be the keywords since people seemed to come interrupting her in an endless stream. Truthfully it annoyed the living daylight out of her, though she would never admit it. Giselle didn't at all care for feelings like frustration and anger. Of course, one could easily imagine that no one actually <em>did<em>, but Giselle thought it different for her. Her upbringing had been full of happiness and bright days only. Her parents had treated her like royalty and loved her to pieces, given her everything she asked for. When she moved away from home and they had left for a cruise to the pacific, she still had the money inherited from her uncle to serve as a security blanket. Some would say that she had been spoiled rotten, but though Giselle was a dreamer, she had always considered herself a sensible young woman. But, as Robert so gracefully had put it, she had never had the chance to encounter "the real world", having had all she needed without having to work for it. She had never had life going against her, had never faced hard times or troubles, and so she had never felt anything but contentment and cheerfulness. Now there were a whole bunch of emotions, like brand new and shiny colors on an artist's palette, and though they unnerved her, she had learned that they were part of life.

She looked briefly at the girl, Amanda, standing behind her with a slightly bemused expression on her face. Giselle slowly stood, making sure that the fabrics where securely fastened to the soft surface of the mannequin, before spitting out the sharp objects into the palm of her hand. "What is it, Sweetie?" she asked, and her assistant turned a tad red, but smiled nonetheless. Amanda and her colleagues had (almost) gotten used to their boss' casual use of pet names, and some of them even thought it endearing.  
>"It's.. There's a young woman waiting to speak to you"<br>"Tell her I'm busy right now and get her phone number so I can contact her and make arrangements for a dress fitting" Giselle muttered, waved her off and started to move the sleeves of the dress around to achieve the right effect.  
>"But Mrs." Amanda said hesitantly, looking slightly uncomfortable. Giselle frowned. This person must have made an impression on the girl, or she wouldn't be questioning her boss' orders like this "She says she doesn't want a dress fitting and that she knows you personally" She was quiet, then courageously said: "I think she's nice"<br>Giselle couldn't help smiling at that. "Did you catch her name?"  
>"No, but she seemed quite … energetic"<br>The smile widened to the extreme, showing two perfect roves of white teeth. "Oh, then I know perfectly well who she is." She tossed everything aside and ran for the door separating the storefront from the back premises. On the way she grabbed poor Amanda by the hand and twirled her around in a gleeful dance, the hem of their dresses twirling around their legs and their hair flaying wildly in the air. Giselle let go of the girl, who almost lost her footing, and with a laugh she left the room, leaving behind a thoroughly bewildered and breathless Amanda.

"Ariel! So good to see you!" she squealed, attracting the attentions of all the present costumers as well as the before mentioned girl, but Giselle didn't care. She threw her arms around the redhead before Ariel even got a chance to get up from the chair, and then babbled on lividly with a thousand miles an hour: "What are you doing here? Back home from Spain, I see! Oh my, you've got some color, it looks so lovely, how's Eric?"  
>She held her friend at arm's length in front of her, studying her sweet face and healthily tanned skin, and then threw a glance at the dress Ariel was wearing. Simple, white with a print of green flowers scattered across the smooth surface. The colors complimented Ariel's eyes and underlined the unique color of natural red hair, which Giselle had always admired. The first time she had meet the girl, she had bluntly proclaimed that she was in possession of "mermaid-locks". They had all laughed at that and then Tiana had pulled out the alcohol from the cabinet in her living room and had proceeded to create perfectly rainbow-colored sleep-over cocktails. Giselle smiled to herself. That had been a nice night. When she arrived in London she'd had no friends what-so-ever, and she had run into Ariel at the street. They had figured out that they had a lot in common; they both possessed free, carefree and bubbly personalities. Therefore it was clear that they hit it off immediately, and a couple of days later Giselle had received an invitation to a "girls' night" from the redhead. That was where, in a blast of pink pillows and comforters, cozy jammies, strawberry icecream and Patrick Swayze in "Dirty Dancing", she had met some of Ariel's friends; enthusiastic and energetic Rapunzel, tough and stubborn Tiana, calm and sweet Cindy and resourceful, fierce Kidakagash (nicknamed Kida, which Giselle with great relief picked up on). The girls had "adopted" Giselle into her midst and she was thankful for this. From being "Divorce attorney Philip's wife and Morgan's stepmother" she became "Successful businesswoman with a wonderful family and a great social life", and it was easy to get used to this change.<p>

Once Giselle had stationed Amanda by the cash register with a promise to be back "soon-ish", she dragged her friend by the arm into the break room, where she made Ariel a cup of blueberry tea and poured herself some coffee – strong, dark, zero milk and sugar, she needed the energy for a long day in the shop. The other young woman smiled at this and bit into a chocolate muffin which Giselle had heated in the microwave. She chewed with great enjoyment before passing judgment on the dainty little pastry: "You have absolutely outdone yourself, Elle"  
>"Thank you!" Giselle said, and curtsied with an exaggerated flourish, "Thank you, I love you too, Baby!" She flung her arms wildly into space like a superstar. Ariel slapped her arm and giggled, "Oh, stop it. You know I'm crazy about your cakes. We all are"<br>"I am _so _very multitalented"  
>"Yet you still such at horseback riding. What kind of Canadian are you?"<br>Giselle pursed her lips, doing her best to appear miffed about these words.  
>"Okay, first: I resent your prejudices about my people. And second: I see no point in putting my life in.. Between the hooves of a 300 kilogram creature when I am perfectly capable of walking, driving a car or make use of public transportation"<br>Ariel smiled, blue eyes gleaming like gemstones. "You don't know how to drive for shit"  
>"Your language, Ariel! I – "<br>"- Resent that"  
>They both doubled over in a fit of laughter, which only stopped when Ariel straightened up with a suddenly serious expression. The mood changed entirely, from gleeful to gloomy in a second. Giselle frowned at the other, and didn't at all care for the turn this has taken. "What's the matter? I guess you didn't come here to make chitchat?"<br>"I think I might have done something stupid." Ariel flumped down onto the couch by the window overlooking the busy London street outside Andalasia. Giselle sat beside her and laid a comforting hand on her upper-arm. "I'm sure it isn't that bad, Love"  
>A deep breath was taken as to steady herself and then Ariel blurted out: "I'm pregnant"<br>Giselle sat in stunned silence, staring at the blushing girl who looked down at her folded hands. "But.." she stammered, "You're what, 22?"  
>"23 next month" Ariel corrected, like this fact made everything so much better.<br>"I see.. It's a little soon, but you and Eric have wanted children for quite a while now, right? Won't it work out?"  
>"That's not the problem" Ariel shook her hair in despair, red locks flickering about like flames in a fireplace, before locking her gaze at a painting of a flower which Rapunzel had made Giselle for her birthday, "I'm not sure whether Eric's the father or not"<p>

-  
>Explanations – where do these characters belong?<p>

Jasmine Saleh, Aladdin Syed and Abu (**Aladdin**)  
>Morgan, Giselle and Robert Philip (<strong>Enchanted<strong>)  
>Ariel Marion and Eric Collins (<strong>The little Mermaid<strong>)  
>Kidakagash Nedakh (<strong>Atlantis<strong>)  
>Cinderella Rosenberg (<strong>Cinderella<strong>)  
>Rapunzel Grunwald (<strong>Tangled<strong>)  
>Tiana Evans (<strong>Princess and the frog<strong>)

These versions of the characters belong to Disney.


	4. Sense of purpose

**Chapter 4****  
><strong>**  
><strong>Introducing and containing Pocahontas, John R, John S, Kenai, Rapunzel, Eugene, the thugs

"So you have to look within yourself to save your true self from your other self, and – "  
>The hippiegurushaman Kenai disappeared into a black nothing with a buzzing sound, and Pocahontas threw away the remote control with an annoyed expression. "Great Spirits, this guy buggers me, John!" she exclaimed, turned the television back on and started switching between the channels, "Comes out of nowhere and starts blabbering about love and cuddliness of bears – bears are fierce and untamed creatures, and they should be respected, not presented as teddy bears! Shaman. Yeah, right."

"Bitter much?" her best friend, John Rolfe, asked as he stepped into the living room, carrying two plates with sweet potatoes to the brown hardwood table, which was already groaning under the massive weight of the dishes. He had been in the kitchen since eleven am, and now the hands on the clock was nearing six pm and was soon ready to announce the arrival of her friends. The Native American girl usually considered herself a patient enough soul, but waiting for things like this made her restless to the point of becoming a bit sharp in her tone.  
>"Much"<p>

"Poor Kenai, being the object for your festive fear-induced wrath."  
>"He could stop being so.." Pocahontas hit a sofa cushion with her left fist, "So.." She lifted her arm in a gesture of surrender, then looked at John with pleading brown eyes "There's nearly an hour 'til they get here, yes?"<br>"Indeed "  
>"Can I go for a walk? Please, I need to get out a little and – "<br>"Easy, of course you can" He smiled at her very softly, so proper and awkwardly compassionate and very much _John_. "I will hold the fort while you're gone, but make sure to be back five minutes to seven, okay?"  
>"Thank you"<p>

_He pities me_ Pocahontas thought, as she fifteen minutes later walked aimlessly around Centrum. She kept near Westminster Abbey, since she liked the church, and sometimes it felt like the steadiest element in this place of ever chaotic movement. Never still, always vibrating, pulsating, buzzing with people and impressions and possibilities and purpose. And at some days it got too much, and the greatness of society would made her body feel dizzy and sent her head spinning under the pressure of it all. So she liked the Abbey. It was a still, endless factor in this new world of hers, a majestic proof of what humans were capable of achieving with their bare hands and heads alone. Pocahontas sat down on a bench from where she had a clear view of the impressive building. She liked England, she truly did. She adored the culture, the architecture, and the seasons. London lacked trees, though. Trees and sunshine and rivers and fresh air. The Thames was nice enough, but it didn't run freely. Gods, this place was different from her home, her North America. Virginia would always be her _real _home, never London. Never would, even if she lived here for a hundred years.

She had rushed to England when she had heard news of Smith's imprisonment a year ago. She had given up everything back home to be at his side, and then what? When he got out of jail five months after her arrival in GB they tried to regain what they'd had back home in the US. That had not worked out, though. Pocahontas and Smith had both changed in the year in which they had not seen each other, and a relationship like before was not an option. A couple of months ago they had broken up. It had been ugly and they had parted in anger. Pocahontas had felt horrible for days, and when she finally decided upon visiting his building, she found out that he had moved. She had no idea as to where he had gone off to. It still hurt, and she missed him often. All the time. Thank God she had met John Rolfe during her third week here, when visiting the London library. He helped set her up in her new apartment, assisted her in finding a job and became a great support in between Smith's court meetings. Even after Smith they still stayed close. He was one of the reasons she hadn't left the country for America.

Smith. John Smith. Pocahontas had to force herself to call him John. There was only one John, and he was John Rolfe, and he had never changed or abandoned her or left without saying goodbye. "Her" John. On days like today, she wondered if he knew how much his presence meant to her. She leant against the back of the bench, which clearly once had been a cheerful red, but now was peeling off and dull. Probably not. "What a day in London, come and see who's here..." She hummed under her breath, quiet enough for the bypasses not to hear her. She was here, in London, but she was not entirely alone. She had the best of the Johns, and the others, and tonight they were having a party to celebrate her promotion, and life was good.

Shivering, she pulled her dark green parka coat closer around her upper body. The weather had turned markedly over the last few days, from sunny and mild to chilly and gray. Sort of like her mood during the breakup with Smith. It was stupid, comparing a lovers' spat to a forecast, but Pocahontas saw it fitting. She had been, and still was, distressed, and nothing seemed to be able to cure the dull phantom pain inside her chest whenever her thoughts slipped towards places she didn't want them to go. It was so hard to not let them do just that. Had her heart ben a compass needle, it would always point towards Smith, even if his direction was not the one she wanted to go in. Knowing that John Rolfe tried to go easy on and felt bad for her made it even worse, which it probably should not. She just wanted things to return to how they were before this mess. She did _not_ want to be treated like a fragile china doll. A friend's behavior should not have to be full of reminders of how you managed to screw up. "Stop it.." she muttered while staring transfixed at her hands, which were tinted a slight pink in the cold. She tilted her head to one side, regarding the body parts with a wondering expression.

"_You have beautiful hands." Smith whispered before taking one of them between his own bigger ones; careful, like was he afraid of breaking them. She shrugged and twisted one corner of the green silken sheet thoughtfully between two fingers – the luxurious fabric felt soft against her naked skin. They were in bed on a cozy evening, basking in the sun's last purple rays streaking through the window and almost drugged on the contentment. "They're just hands"  
>"Well, yeah, but you don't see the same that I do."<br>True, she didn't. Her hands were liked tools to her. Useful and practical. What more was there to it? But he smiled at her, a big and warm smile, and his blonde hair shone, rich and voluminous, like a field of corn in summer, so different from her own dark and straight hair. His skin was light and slightly sensitive. He got easily sunburned and his cheeks would grow red on a nice Virginian summer day. Hers was smooth and brown and made her look foreign, exotic even. They complimented each other and fit together in all their contradictions and different nuances. She was proud and restless, he was steady and patient…_

But so was Rolfe. She sighed and bit into her lip with a front tooth, worrying the fragile skin. The two men looked nothing like each other outwardly, but sometimes, not on purpose (he would never do anything to hurt her), John would behave so much like Smith that it almost hurt. That was most likely also why she had fallen in love with him. John, that is. And also why she could not tell him how she felt. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel like some sort of rebound after Smith. She could not do that to him, not after everything he had done for her.

_I should probably get back and help him with the last preparation_ she thought reluctantly and stood from the bench. For a moment she swayed a little on the spot, trying to regain feeling in her sleeping legs. Just for how long had she been sitting there? She dug out her phone and stared at the display. A quarter to seven. "Damn!". She had lost track of time, and now she would be late for her own party. Still clutching her cell she ran for her apartment, but stopped short when a buzzing between her fingers alarmed her of an incoming call. She settled for powerwalking instead of full-out running and pushed the required button on the device.

"Pocahontas speaking"  
>"Poca, hey!"<br>Pocahontas flinched. That nickname made her sound like a puppy and that was the last thing she wanted anyone to associate her with. Under normal circumstances she would have tried to convince Rapunzel that it truly was a sucky nickname, but this day she simply could not make herself care, having far too much on her mind in the first place.  
>"Hi. What's up?"<br>"I.." Rapunzel's sweet voice suddenly sounded troubled.  
>"You what? Spill it" Pocahontas said, and then recoiled with shame when picturing Rapunzel flinching from the harsh tone. The girl had always been a little sensitive, and Pocahontas was very straight forward. So therefore, obviously, they had their moments of tension, but they were great friends nonetheless. "I'm sorry, just a little stressed." She said soothingly, then hesitantly added, "With the breakup and all that".<br>"Nono!" her friend almost yelled at the other end of the line in an attempt to be reassuring – her voice trembled only just a little, "I completely understand and you have nothing to worry about, it wasn't like I got mad or anything, oh, Eugene says hi – No Honey! You are not allowed to call yourself Flynn Rider in front of our friends just because it sounds cooler, and we have already discussed this!" she called out to her boyfriend, whose cheery voice Pocahontas faintly could hear in the background. "Poca, I really have to – "  
>"Breathe, Sweetheart" the native American girl advised with a chuckle.<br>"Okay, okay. The thing is, Giselle called me. She and Ariel won't be able to make it tonight."  
>Wait, they cannot come? Why not?"<br>"I don't know, Elle wouldn't tell me a thing." Contemplative silence for a few seconds, then Rapunzel added carefully, "I'm worried, she sounded.. Off. Something's not good."  
>"Blast" Pocahontas muttered, then considered her choice of words and sighed. She really <em>had<em> started adjusting her language from American English to British, and not even on purpose. This gave her a foul taste in the mouth which it really shouldn't have, a feeling of distancing herself from her own home. She quickly added "Damn, crap, shit, Christ". Ah, that felt better._ No, it didn't._ "I am sure there's no reason to fret about it, Rapunzel."  
>A short, unsecure pause, then: "You are probably right. But still, I think I'll call Giselle later"<br>"Good idea" she answered, trying to keep her tone light while quickening her pace with the realization that she was really, really late for the party, "I have to go now, I'm sorry"  
>"It's okay" there was a smile in Rapunzel's voice, and Pocahontas could not help her own lips from curving upwards. Rapunzel's smile was quite catching.<p>

They said a quick goodbye, and with a last look at Big Ben, which towered, huge and majestic and weirdly calming, above the other buildings, she hurried home.

-

In a not so very different part of the city, being late for a friend's promotion party was also a very conceivable possibility. "You absolutely _had_ to go out drinking with the thugs last night, didn't you?" Rapunzel said after having ended her conversation with Pocahontas, "And then coming home with a hangover, what _were_ you thinking?" Face just a teensy bit red, she stared accusingly at her boyfriend, who was twisting an autumn red leaf between his fingers. He really did look worse for wear, with his brown hair sticking this way and that, dark rings beneath both equally dark eyes, and pale cheeks. She softened up a bit at the sight and went to take his hand in his, interlacing their fingers. He sent her an exhausted grin, "Wasn't thinking much, really. I think Hookhand spiked my beer."  
>Rapunzel could not help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Hookhand? Oh, you mean Gregory. Seriously, your friends' nicknames are beyond me."<br>"Their nicknames are perfectly fine, if you ask me."  
>"Yes, but you, my former thief friend, were the one who went under the alias of Flynn Rider."<br>He laughed with a teasing glint in his eyes, "Well yes, and I also consort with delinquents in seedy pubs and consume beverages of questionable nature"  
>"I know." She tossed a quick glance at him, "How are you feeling?"<br>"Like I have been run over by a truck" he answered truthfully, "I honestly didn't mean to – "  
>"No no." Rapunzel said and put a finger to his upper lip, effectively silencing him, "It's okay. We'll figure something out." She frowned, then, almost reluctantly asked, "Do you need a smoke? We can buy some cigarettes at a corner.."<br>Eugene felt warmth somewhere in his chest when she said those words. He knew she loathed smoking, so the fact that she would indulge him in this habit showed that she was truly worried about his state. "I can deal." He answered and tugged her fondly against his side as they walked with quick steps across the sidewalk, multicolored leaves in warms colors that had fallen from the surrounding trees crunching beneath their heels, "If I need one, I'll just bum a cigarette from Aladdin. Besides – " he pulled up one of the sleeves of his jacket and showed an arm adorned with a discrete round nicotine patch, "I'm doing well."

"You are." She agreed, then let her gaze drift a little, from his upper arm and to his stomach, covered in blue fabric and hiding something only very few people knew of, and of which Rapunzel knew far too much. She carefully let her fingers ghost across his torso, and felt him shiver beneath the relatively thin fabric. "How's your cut doing?" She asked, chewing on the inside of her mouth, green eyes shadowed with something Eugene recognized as guilt. He wanted to tell her it was not her fault. Hell, he had done that so many times already. She was not to blame, but no matter how he tried, he could not make her understand this.

"_Honey, I'm okay. I__t's not your fault, I promise, you didn't know what would happen" he hissed through teeth clenched in pain and with hands fisted tightly around the crispy white sheets of the hospital bed. He reached for her, but she pulled away to the far end of the bed, __eyes wide with fright and shining with fresh tears. Her heart shaped face was framed_ _by a wild mess of brown curls in different lengths, like had it been cut haphazardly, in desperate abandon. "There was so much blood" she whispered weakly, voice shaking s__o badly that he could hardly make out what she was saying, "And I kept calling out your name, and you didn't answer.". Her bright eyes widened, "Oh, God! It's my fault, it's my fault. I should have known she would react like that, I could have prevented it__, if I had known she would have been that angry.." Visibly shaking she fell forward, shoulders hunched and face hid in her hands. It felt like liquid pain was oozing around in his veins as he wrestled himself forward on the madras so that he was able to pu__ll her into a tight embrace. She fought hopelessly for a moment, and then all resistance left her, leaving her limp like a ragdoll in his __arms. She clung to him while heart wrenching sobs shock her lithe frame. __  
><em>_"Rapunzel…". She was pressing against the ne__wly stitched up wound Gothel had made with her knife, but he couldn't care less. Not when she lay in his lap, broken, shattered, torn apart with guilt and fear and the knowledge that she very nearly lost him to the madness of her insane "mother". He brushe__d away a glistening tear and tugged at a strand of chestnut hair. He would have to get used to not being able to run his hands through long, blonde tresses. If he had had any other choice, he would not have cut it off with that shard of mirror. But he hadn__'t had, and now this was it, there was no going back, and if he had the chance to do it over, he would have done the exact same thing. For her he would go through hell and high water, and a serious stomach wound was nothing to pay if he could protect her. __"You colored your hair."__  
><em>_She slowly raised her head and sniffled. "Yes, while I waited for you to wake up. I couldn't stand.."__  
><em>_"I know". And he did. He knew that she needed to be herself again. He knew that she hurt just as he did, though not the way you c__ould see on the outside. He knew that she felt so full of emotions right now, her body could hardly contain them. He wanted to shield her, wanted to make sure she would never ever hurt again. Eugene could not do that. Forgetting might be the only thing to __do. "Did I ever tell you I've got a thing for brunettes?"__  
><em>_She lit up, and the sun caught in beautiful brown hair and green eyes, and for a moment, she became the same Rapunzel again, bright and lovely and trustful. Eugene would do everything to ensure that__ she would stay this way._

"I'm fine" he said almost too cheerfully, anything to chase her sadness away, "I visited the doctor Monday morning while you were at painting class, and he said that it's healing nicely. A couple more weeks, then I can kiss the bandage goodbye."

Rapunzel looked very relieved at this. They passed a tube where a train had just arrived, judging by the mass of people streaming from the underground. Lots of people going about their own business, blissfully unaware of the small everyday catastrophes going on all around them. Rapunzel and Eugene had witnessed and been trapped in the midst of one, a personal tragedy, and the young woman knew that she could never look at the world with the same unclouded happiness with which she had done before. She saw the constant mass of information. The light drizzle of personal catastrophes was unavoidable, and she couldn't tune them out, just try to ignore them, since _been there, done that_. All people had problems, though perhaps "invisible" to the naked eye, but since the episode with Gothel, Rapunzel had become way too focused on them. They happened and she could not do a thing to stop them, no matter how much she wanted to or how frustrated she got. She did not want anyone to hurt like she had. But truth was, people got hurt all the time, and she was helpless in the rain.

"Rapunzel, where are your thoughts?"  
>"I.." she realized that she had stopped by the stairs leading down to the station and had been staring absentmindedly at the humans, at all the lives passing by. She forced herself out of the trance and let him tug her away so she would not get absorbed and pulled along by the masses. "Somewhere philosophical, I guess" she flashed him a smile, which he laughed at. "You, philosophical?"<br>"Very"  
>"Simpleton"<br>"Hey!" she exclaimed and slapped his upper arm with a playful smile, "That's not true! I am very deep. I attend college! I am an artist!"  
>"Spray painting in alleys does not testify as a being an artist" he kept on teasing her, taking a smooth step back to avoid another hit to the shoulder. She huffed at him and stuck up her nose in mock annoyance, before grapping his arm and quickening their tempo. "Come on now, Hangover Guy, let's go. Pocahontas sounded real stressed, and I am sooo hungry"<br>"As said through the mouth of a first grade simpleton"  
>"Do shut up"<p>

-  
>Pocahontas, John Smith and John Rolfe (<strong>Pocahontas<strong>)  
>Rapunzel Grunwald, Eugene Fitzherbert and the Thugs (<strong>Tangled<strong>)  
>Ariel Marion Collins (<strong>The little Mermaid)<strong>  
>Giselle Philip (<strong>Enchanted<strong>)  
>Kenai (<strong>Brothe<strong>**r Bear**)

These variants of the characters belong to Disney.


End file.
